


In-flight Entertainment

by xYoSa



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Airplane bathroom sex, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mile High Club, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, airplane travel, but Bruce wouldn’t want him any other way, tony stark is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22874533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xYoSa/pseuds/xYoSa
Summary: Tony and Bruce, both very busy and very dedicated to their respective jobs, finally manage to make time to go on their first trip together after almost a year of dating. Tony is so excited that he gets the vacation started while they’re still on the plane.(Or: a shameless excuse to have Tony and Bruce join the mile high club.)
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	In-flight Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellewrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellewrites/gifts).



> For Elle, who has written so many AMAZING science bros AUs, including a wonderful gift fic just for li’l old me called [Dog Person](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20403928), that it’s inspired me to try my hand at some AUs myself. This oneshot idea just popped into my head. Hope you like it! (And I swear that doctor AU is coming...one of these days!)

Tony and Bruce had been dating seriously for almost a year, but had never taken a vacation together.

It’s not that they didn’t travel. Bruce’s job as Chief Quality Control Officer of a large sustainable energy firm had him flying to various cities around the country for at least a few days every three or four weeks. Tony didn’t travel as far, but as founder and owner of his successful chain of Stark Auto Repair shops, he found himself doing the rounds to each of his twenty shop locations in New York state (and one in Niagara Falls, Canada) at least once every couple of months.

But traveling _together_ was a different story. They simply hadn’t yet managed to get enough time off work at the same time to justify a trip out of town.

Tony wouldn’t mind so much—he loved his job, loved being his own boss, even if it meant long hours—but since he and Bruce lived almost forty-five minutes’ drive from each other in shitty NYC traffic, their time together was in short supply even when they were both in town. A couple times a week, they would meet for a date roughly halfway between their homes, and they took turns spending Saturday nights at each other’s place when they could.

All of this scheduling and logistics and trying to cram a week’s worth of quality time together into one night on weekends…it had been enough for Tony at first, but he’d slowly come to realize that he wanted more. If Bruce were any other man, Tony would have suggested months ago that they move in together.

(Well no, actually, if Bruce were any other man, Tony wouldn’t be half as infatuated with him as he was with Bruce and frankly, their relationship probably wouldn’t have lasted long enough for Tony to want them to move in together in the first place.)

And Tony _was_ infatuated with him. But more than that, he loved him deeply, which was definitely a first for him if he was honest with himself. Unfortunately, Bruce had made it clear early on in their relationship, as soon as things showed signs of getting serious, that he wanted to go slowly. He’d just ended a very damaging and emotionally abusive relationship with his ex girlfriend, Monica, only a few months before he and Tony had started dating. Tony still felt his blood boil when recalling the brief conversation they’d had about it over coffee the morning after Bruce had spent the night at Tony’s place for the third time.

“I don’t really like to think about it,” Bruce had said, idly swirling the espresso in his cup without taking a sip. “It just reminds me of what an idiot I was, letting her be so terrible to me for so long. But long story short: I let her move in with me way too soon, on her insistence; she cheated on me nearly every time I was out of town; stole from me; got so jealous of my friendship with my old college friend, Natasha—who I’d never even dated—that she managed to permanently damage that friendship. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fix things between Nat and me.”

“Shit,” Tony had muttered in reply. “Sounds like a real piece of work.”

“And that’s not the worst part.” Bruce’s mouth had twisted into a humorless smile. “When she could sense I was going to break up with her, she faked a pregnancy to keep me around longer. I stayed four more months before I found out she was full of shit. I almost married her.”

“ _Christ!”_

“Yeah.” Bruce had let out a long sigh, and Tony had wanted nothing more in that moment than to grab him and hold him tight and swear to him that he’d never let him get hurt like that again.

But because he fucking sucked at emotional shit, the best words of consolation he could come up with were, “Well hey, you don’t have to worry about that with me. You have my word that I will never fake a pregnancy to keep you from breaking up with me.”

Bruce had indulged Tony by laughing at that, but quickly grew serious again, eyes fixed on his coffee cup. “I know you’d never hurt me on purpose but—I need some time to get over that. It was the first time I’d ever gotten that serious in a relationship, and—I just—”

Tony had gently cut him off with some words of assurance about how he would respect Bruce’s wishes and wouldn’t try to rush things. Bruce had thanked him for it, and then they’d let the matter drop.

Truth be told, Tony had been relieved at first. He didn’t have any terrible past relationships to get over, he just…sucked at commitment. And didn’t care to look too deeply into the reasons why. So the routine they’d fallen into had been fine by him.

For a while.

He couldn’t actually pinpoint when it was that his feelings started to change. He tried not to focus too much on that stuff, so it just kind of crept up on him. All he knew now was that he loved Bruce and could see them being together for a long time. Maybe even forever. He hoped Bruce felt the same way, but he forced himself to stay true to his word and not push him to move things to the next level. 

So, no. Moving in was out of the question for the foreseeable future. A nice vacation together, where they could spend a week sharing a hotel room and Tony could make believe they were living together, was the closest thing he could hope for for the time being. But even that took far too long to come to fruition.

Occasionally, one of them had taken a day or two off work to accompany the other on a business trip as a sort of quasi-vacation, but it was always frustrating that the one who was there on business would be busy during the day while the other was left alone to go sightseeing solo. And even when the work day was over, evening interruptions for unexpected overtime were definitely a thing sometimes, too. 

(After one “memorable” overnight trip to set up the newest location of Stark Auto Repair in Niagara Falls, when Tony ignored his ringing phone because he was busy being bent over a hotel room armchair by Bruce and thoroughly fucked for the first time in _two weeks_ , and then was interrupted ten minutes later by that fucker Clint, the manager of the new location, banging on his hotel room door over whatever ridiculous non-emergency he’d been phoning about and completely quashing what _would’ve_ been a mind-blowing orgasm, they decided it would be best to save future joint trips for when he and Bruce would _both_ be free from work obligations.)

It took a lot longer than they had intended before they were finally able to plan a proper vacation. Bruce’s company had won a huge contract for transitioning parts of eastern Oklahoma to wind energy and he had to be on the ground for several days during each phase of the massive installation project in order to do quality control. Meanwhile, Tony had had to fire his regional manager, Justin Hammer, for some sketchy business practices and general incompetence. It had taken a lot of overtime over the next few months to set right Hammer’s fuck-ups, not to mention the extra workload Tony had had to take on while searching for a replacement regional manager.

(Hammer had gone on to open his own chain of auto repair shops, which abruptly folded three months later due to some unauthorized experimental car modifications he’d been performing, one of which launched a driver fifty feet out of the side door of his vehicle, which he’d only taken to Hammer’s shop for an oil change.)

Then finally, _finally,_ about eleven and a half months into their relationship, things started to quiet down for both of them. Bruce’s hard work on the Oklahoma project was a resounding success and he asked for and received two straight weeks off. And Tony’s new regional manager, Pepper Potts, was astoundingly good at keeping the entire business running smoothly; she could definitely handle things if Tony took some time off. So he booked off the same two week stretch as Bruce, and they planned their holiday.

They settled on LA for their destination. There was no particularly compelling reason for it, but Bruce loved surfing and Tony loved movies, so those were good enough reasons for them. They would spend one week there, and one week back home doing absolutely fuck-all together, and Tony couldn’t _wait._

But annoyingly, Bruce was so busy finishing all his QC reports and transferring his open projects to his more junior coworker, Thor, that he was unable to see Tony at all for nearly _two fucking weeks_ leading up to their departure date. It was one of the longest stretches apart that they’d had since they started dating.

Tony missed him. He _really_ fucking missed him. Especially now that Pepper was there at work to take some of the load off his shoulders and he could actually come home on time every night. To an empty apartment because Bruce still lived halfway across the damn city and there was nothing Tony could do about it.

The eve their departure finally arrived. As Tony packed, he made a mental list of the ways he planned to defile the Santa Monica hotel room with Bruce the moment they arrived. Hopefully Bruce wouldn’t be too sore afterward to give Tony that surfing lesson he’d promised, but Tony could make no guarantees.

It wasn’t until they were buckled into their first class seats on the nonstop flight that Tony finally let himself believe this was happening. His first real trip with Bruce where they were both totally off from work, zero obligations to anything or anyone but each other.

“How long is the flight again?” asked Tony.

“A little over six hours.”

“Well shit,” Tony huffed. How was he supposed to wait that long? He’d been waiting on this trip for _months._ And hadn’t gotten his hands on Bruce in two weeks!

And considering the way Bruce looked—dressed in loose white cotton drawstring pants perfect for the beach and a blue floral button-down shirt unbuttoned just enough to show off a sexy sliver of his incredibly handsome chest, while his usually neat, business-styled hair was now a casual mop of curls that Tony ached to bury both of his hands in—it was a miracle Tony wasn’t straddling the man right there on his seat and ripping that shirt off him.

He lasted until about ten minutes after the seatbelt sign turned off before his hand was conspicuously resting on Bruce’s inner thigh. He wasn’t really trying to torment his boyfriend or anything, he just…well. Maybe he _was_ trying to torment him a little, but fuck, being gone for _two weeks_ before this vacation began? Bruce sort of had it coming.

Bruce slowly turned to look at Tony, eyebrows raised in what was probably supposed to be a rebuke, except he was unable to keep a smile off his lips. 

“Tony.”

“Mm?” Tony’s face was all innocence.

Bruce gave him a flat look that said ‘Really?’ but that sexy little smile was still playing on his lips. “Move your hand,” he finally said when Tony still hadn’t shown signs of moving.

So Tony did move his hand. Moved it back and forth on Bruce’s inner thigh, that is. Bruce’s soft, almost indiscernible intake of breath when Tony got near his crotch should not have been enough to turn Tony on, yet here he was, suddenly feeling a rush of blood heading southward.

It was over quickly, though, as Bruce stilled Tony’s wrist with his hand and moved it off his leg. Tony huffed a little, but went along with it. They still had almost five and a half hours left on this flight. It wasn’t like they could do anything up here anyway.

But then about half an hour later, when Bruce put down his book and did this gratuitous full-body stretch, lifting his arms above his head (which made his shirt ride up a little, showing off his abs) and letting out a long groan of satisfaction that went straight to Tony’s groin, Tony started to wonder if perhaps they _could_ do something up here.

The mile high club, that was a thing people did, right? It couldn’t be just a myth.

The very idea of it made Tony feel hot all over. Him and Bruce in a tiny bathroom, fucking mere feet away from the other passengers who would be totally oblivious to it all? Why had he never thought of this before?

But Bruce was absorbed in his book, and Tony was certain he’d never go for it in a million years anyway. Maybe one day, Tony’s auto shop chain would go national and he’d be a multimillionaire with his own private jet where he and Bruce could defile every surface to their hearts’ content, but in the meantime, he’d need to behave himself on airplanes. He could wait—(he checked his watch)—four hours and fifty-five more minutes before throwing himself onto Bruce, right? Sure. Okay.

As it turned out, he was a bit too optimistic about that. After another hour of kicking the idea around in his mind and getting himself thoroughly wound up (likely helped along in part by the gin sour and the glass of pinot noir, compliments of first class), it started to become an indisputably appealing idea. He should at least _try_ to convince Bruce, he reasoned, even if he knew what the answer would be.

He leaned over as Bruce was taking a sip of rum and Coke and murmured in his ear, “Ever get a blow job in an airplane bathroom?”

Bruce nearly choked on his drink, which made Tony feel irrationally self-satisfied at his ability to get to him after being brushed off so easily before.

“Shh,” Bruce hissed, dabbing a napkin at the droplets of cocktail he’d spilled on his tray table. “Quit fucking around.”

“Who’s fucking around? I’m serious. C’mon, it’ll only take a minute.” Tony gave him a seductive smile.

“Tony…”

“They say mile high orgasms are much better than at sea level,” he added with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“No one says that, Tony.”

“I wanna feel your _thrust,_ baby. Get it? Thrust?” When that didn’t get a reaction from Bruce, Tony laid the puns on thicker. “Can I play with your joystick? How much payload are you packing? My _runway_ is clear for landing.”

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, and Tony deflated a little. He knew he was being a bastard. But he couldn’t help it, he missed Bruce _so damn much_ when he wasn’t around. They’d only been together a year, but already Tony couldn’t imagine life without him.

(Well, no, sadly he _could_ imagine it; he lived it every night when he came home to an empty apartment, except on Saturdays. He and Bruce would FaceTime nearly every night before bed, but it wasn’t enough anymore. He wanted him in his arms, he wanted that Saturday feeling every night of the week. He wanted—)

“Listen.” Bruce interrupted his thoughts, taking his hand gently in both of his own and stroking his thumb back and forth along Tony’s palm in that way he loved. “I know we haven’t had much time together lately. And I’ve missed you. A lot. But you know we can’t do… _that_ …on an airplane.”

“Why not?” Tony protested, still not ready to give up. “It’s not like it’s illegal.”

“I’m pretty sure it is, actually.”

Tony doubted that was true, but he wasn’t in the mood to debate the finer points of the law just now. He was in a much different kind of mood.

“Only if we get caught,” he said with a wink. “No one will see. Look”—he nodded toward the rear of the first class section—“the curtain separating us from coach is shut. And no one is even sitting in the last row of first class. If I go first and then you—”

“Not gonna happen.” The finality in Bruce’s tone was unequivocal, and for some reason, even though Tony _knew_ it would end like this, it just pissed him off.

“Fine.” He removed his hand from Bruce’s and faced forward again, pulling out his e-reader and ignoring Bruce like a petulant child.

Bruce leaned toward him with a playful smile. “Hey, you missed a pun about cockpits,” he joked, clearly hoping to placate Tony a little. But Tony, determined not to be pacified that easily, suppressed the urge to smile back (despite mentally kicking himself for missing such an obvious pun) and kept his eyes on his e-reader. So Bruce tried a different tactic, moving a little closer to murmur in Tony’s ear. “Babe. You know as soon as we get to our hotel room I’m going to fuck you into the mattress until you can hardly move, right? Only a few more hours.”

That image just made Tony’s blood surge again. Fuck, but he was a horny bastard right now, wasn’t he?

He put his e-reader down and and removed his glasses to look at his boyfriend. Why did he have to be so fucking _hot_ right now? Honestly, three-quarters of Tony’s predicament were easily Bruce’s fault for looking like that. Tony made a mental note to have him wear those beach clothes and that hairstyle at home on weekends from now on.

“Oh, I know you will,” he replied with confidence. Then, because he was sick of sitting here with a hard-on that Bruce would do nothing about, he made a sudden decision. “But in the meantime”—he unbuckled his seatbelt and moved to get up—“I gotta take a little break. You got me all hot and bothered. Move those sexy legs, big guy.”

“Are you about to do what I think you are?” Bruce asked dubiously, shifting to make room for Tony to get by.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Tony replied with a little smirk before heading to the bathroom at the back of their section, not entirely sure himself yet whether he was about to do what Bruce thought.

He entered the bathroom and locked the door, then turned to look at himself in the mirror. For a moment, he considered just splashing some cold water on his face and returning to his seat. But picturing Bruce’s maddening calmness, his stubborn refusal to be riled up, somehow just riled Tony up more. He unbuckled his belt.

Before he could start undoing his fly, the door slid open. He reflexively turned away from the door and looked over his shoulder, about to shout “Occupied!” at the intruder. But then Bruce crowded into the lavatory behind him, closing and locking the door.

“What the…” Tony turned around but his question was cut off by Bruce cupping his cheeks in his hands and kissing him, hard. Tony’s surprise kept him from immediately reacting, but only for a moment. Then he was leaning into Bruce, returning the kiss with equal urgency, wrapping his arms around him to pull him closer despite the fact that they were already pressed up tight against each other in the tiny space. 

Well. _This_ was unexpected.

When they parted, Bruce’s fingers moved to the back of Tony’s head and and he ran them idly through his hair, giving him a look that was simultaneously exasperated and adoring.

“You are _impossible_ ,” he said, shaking his head slowly with a little smile.

Tony grinned wickedly in return and planted another quick kiss on Bruce’s lips. “Impossible to _resist_ , you mean,” he teased. “But hang on.” He frowned. “How did you get in here? I know I locked the door.”

Bruce shrugged. “You fly often enough, you learn a few tricks. Now come here.” His expression turned hungry and his hands flew to Tony’s pants, deftly undoing the button of his fly, and Tony couldn’t help the low groan that escaped his lips at this whole situation. At the fact that this was actually going to happen. At how fucking kinky it was. At the knowledge that he could have this effect on his normally level-headed boyfriend, when he truly hadn’t expected him to actually agree to do anything sexual on an _airplane._ Sure, Bruce could be a total animal in bed, but he was still a very private person. Tony remembered how humiliated Bruce had felt when Barton had interrupted their hotel room sex in Niagara Falls that time. It had taken Tony a while to convince him that it was actually more funny than embarrassing. (Well, and fucking irritating.)

At the sound of Tony’s wanton groan, Bruce suddenly stopped what he was doing, and the groan morphed into a plaintive whine.

“Hush,” Bruce said, looking him in the eye with dead seriousness. “If we’re gonna do this, you have to be quiet. We both do. I’m not about to get arrested for indecent conduct or whatever.”

Tony was still fairly certain that that wasn’t a thing that happened on planes unless they were fucking in plain view of the other passengers or something, but he wasn’t about to argue with Bruce and delay their fun.

(Plus, fuck if it didn’t turn him on like crazy to be ordered into silence like that.)

“Okay, I’ll be good,” he said quietly, but followed it up with a palm over Bruce’s already-hard cock, making Bruce gasp and have to stifle a groan of his own.

Ha. Two could play at this game.

But then Bruce threw aside all restraint and dropped to his knees in front of Tony, reaching up to finish undoing his fly, and Tony was hit so suddenly with how utterly, impossibly _hot_ this was that for one wild second he thought he might actually come in his pants right now before they even got this party started.

He managed not to, but he was so hard already that it took a bit of effort for Bruce to free Tony’s cock from his pants. Tony braced one hand on the bathroom’s tiny vanity and the other on the metal grab bar attached to the opposite wall so he wouldn’t fucking keel over at the sight of Bruce kneeling in front of him, staring at his dick like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

And then Bruce looked up at him with this cheeky grin and reached into his own pocket to pull out a bottle of lube, and holy _shit,_ no fucking way. He hadn’t just come in here to give Tony a quick blowjob to make him happy or shut him up. He was gonna _fuck_ him right here in this bathroom. How Tony was supposed to stay quiet through _that,_ he had no idea.

Bruce pulled Tony’s pants down a little more, exposing his ass, and coated a couple fingers of one hand with lube while Tony watched, heart rate spiking to the point where he could almost hear it beating over the noise of the plane’s engines. Then without further ado, Bruce leaned forward and swallowed him whole while reaching around to impale him on one slick finger, and Tony just about lost his whole goddamn mind.

He had to keep his hands braced on their respective surfaces to keep himself upright through the barrage of sensations, leaving him helpless to control any of what Bruce was doing to him. Taking hold of Bruce’s head to guide his movements was not possible. And whichever way he shifted, forward or backward, he was either pushing himself deeper onto Bruce’s finger or else deeper into Bruce’s mouth. He had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep quiet, especially when he looked down and saw that gorgeous, unruly mop of hair moving back and forth in time with the motions of Bruce’s mouth that Tony felt on his cock.

Then Bruce added a second finger to Tony’s ass and did… _something_ …with his tongue, and Tony couldn’t help it, nothing could have stopped the loud gasp and high-pitched squeak that emitted from his throat at that.

Bruce immediately stopped whatever magic he was working with his tongue and pulled his mouth off of Tony’s dick slowly with an obscene suction sound, looking up at him with this smug, shit-eating grin that told Tony he knew exactly how much he was tormenting him, and that he was enjoying it immensely. Probably his way of punishing Tony a little for being such a dick back at their seats.

“Too much?” he asked innocently, followed by a gratuitous swipe on the underside of Tony’s tip that forced him to clench all his muscles to keep from whimpering again.

Tony opened his mouth to utter some sort of comeback but was cut off by the feeling of Bruce’s fingers curling _just right_ inside him, almost making his vision cut out. Jesus fucking _Christ,_ this was…fuck. This was unlike anything they’d ever done together, and they’d been known to be pretty damn adventurous in bed.

(Of course, they were pretty damn far from anything resembling a bed right now, Tony thought vaguely through his haze.)

Bruce looked justifiably pleased with himself at having rendered Tony speechless, and returned to his ministrations, sucking and finger fucking Tony mercilessly, but only for a few more torturous minutes (during which Tony somehow managed to keep quiet, though barely) before deciding that he’d had enough. He stood up and pulled out his fingers, wiping them on a paper towel from the dispenser. 

Tony barely had time to catch his breath before Bruce was taking his shoulder and turning him toward the sink. He watched in the mirror, panting, as Bruce busied himself behind him undoing his own pants and opening a condom. His eyes swept across Bruce’s face, taking in his dark, expressive eyes and tracing the stubbled curvature of his jaw. God, he really was a beautiful man. Tony should tell him that more often.

Bruce rolled on the condom and drizzled some more lube down Tony’s crack, then lined himself up. He looked up to meet Tony’s eyes in the mirror, and paused.

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” he asked, possibly concerned by the intensity with which Tony was watching him.

“Fuck no,” Tony assured him. “It’s just…”

_Just that I love you so damn much I can hardly stand it and I’m not entirely sure I deserve you._

“Just…this is fucking hot,” he said instead.

“It _is_ ,” Bruce agreed with a soft smile. His eyes lingered on Tony’s a second longer, as if he was going to say something else, but then he just tilted his face forward to kiss and suck Tony’s neck, sending a shiver through his body as Bruce slowly pushed inside him. When he was all the way in, he stilled his hips a moment to let Tony adjust to the intrusion before he started to fuck him.

He moved slowly in and out of Tony, keeping the pace relaxed and languid, each roll of his hips a deliberate motion that hit Tony just right. He was fucking him like they had all the time in the world, like this wasn’t just some quick bathroom tryst, and Tony’s heart swelled at the thought of just how much Bruce seemed to want him right now.

The neck kisses gradually morphed into little bites as Bruce’s breathing picked up and grew more intense. His breath was hot and ragged against the flesh of Tony’s neck, the sensation almost too much for Tony to handle, but he relished it, even letting his head tip to the side to give Bruce easier access. Bruce moaned softly against his skin as his lips and teeth worked, and Tony felt that moan like an electric current all through his body and down to his toes.

Then Bruce let out a sudden gasp and lifted his mouth from Tony’s neck to bury his nose and lips in the hair behind Tony’s ear as his arousal surged and his thrusts grew deeper. Tony stared, transfixed, not wanting to close his eyes and miss a single second, his own arousal nearly forgotten as he watched Bruce lose himself in his own bliss.

This. This was what he missed, what he craved, when Bruce wasn’t there. Not the sex, no, it was more than that. Just—this closeness with Bruce, the way they filled up each other’s entire world and let everything else, all the minor little daily struggles with life, the stupid hassles at work, _all_ of it, just fall away. Those rare moments when Bruce could dissolve Tony’s barriers and make him _feel_ things without letting him shy away. God knows Tony didn’t make it easy for him, but still. He loved it, reveled in it, when he wasn’t too cowardly to let it happen.

Bruce wrapped one arm tightly around Tony’s chest and reached around with his other to take hold of Tony’s cock, stroking him off in time with his thrusts. Tony summoned his last shred of lucidity to grab some paper towels from the dispenser so that he wouldn’t make a mess of the bathroom floor. His forehead fell against the mirror as his control slowly started to dissolve.

“ _Tony.”_ Bruce quietly, tenderly, whispered his name against his hair, and that was it. Tony was gone. He squeezed his eyes shut and let his orgasm crash hard over him, a not-too-quiet groan escaping his throat despite their agreement on silence, but Bruce paid it no mind. His thrusts became faster and harder as he began to ride his own wave toward climax. Tony watched in the mirror as Bruce’s eyes fluttered closed in a look of pure, unrestrained ecstasy as he let go, and not even the glorious aftershocks of Tony’s orgasm caused by Bruce’s deep, neverending thrusts could compare to what that look on Bruce’s face did to his insides.

There were a few final, erratic jerks of Bruce’s hips as his orgasm faded away, and then he collapsed against Tony’s back and slowly opened his eyes to meet Tony’s in the mirror. He just gazed at him a moment without speaking, his chin resting on Tony’s shoulder, and Tony gazed back, managing not to say something stupid to spoil this raw, unfiltered moment they were sharing.

With a final kiss on Tony’s oversensitive neck that sent a little pulse of pleasure down his back, Bruce pulled out of him. Tony wiped off his dick while Bruce grabbed a paper towel to wipe the lube off his ass the best he could. It wasn’t perfect, and Tony would be a little uncomfortable for the rest of the flight, but it was worth it. Really fucking worth it.

Now Bruce was gently turning Tony around to face him, and as he carefully pulled up and fastened Tony’s pants, watching his hands as they worked, and then slowly, almost shyly, lifted his eyes to meet Tony’s, a hint of nervousness there, and licked his lips to speak…somehow, Tony subconsciously knew what he was going to say.

“Move in with me?”

Tony swallowed against the stupid lump that jumped to his throat and let out a surprised, breathy laugh to cover it up, pulling Bruce into a tight hug, a grin spreading on his face and his chest full to bursting. He pulled back a little to look Bruce in the eye to make sure he really meant it. His eyes were so open and sincere that Tony could hardly hold his gaze.

It was almost too much, and Bruce could surely see Tony’s eyes getting a little wet. And so, to keep himself from crying in front of him in a goddamn airplane bathroom, he forced out a joke.

“You might want to reserve judgement on that until our trip is over,” he said with a wet little smile, the words coming out a bit choked. “We’re about to be cooped up in a hotel together for a whole week, and I’ve been told that I can be very difficult to live with.”

Bruce smiled back and gave him a kiss. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

He reached around Tony to pump some soap into his hands, and Tony moved as best he could out of the way to let him wash up.

“Seriously, though,” Tony continued, kind of wishing he would shut the fuck up. “I’m a nightmare. I eat cookies in bed. I don’t use coasters. I leave hair in the sink.”

Bruce was undeterred. “I already knew all that,” he said with a shrug as he dried his hands.

“I squeeze toothpaste from the top.”

“Oh, well, that’s a dealbreaker,” Bruce joked, rolling his eyes.

“Well I also—”

“Tony,” Bruce cut him off, taking his chin gently in his fingers and pulling him in for a soft kiss. “Shh.”

Back at their seats a short while later, Tony thought he’d be relaxed and sated, but instead he was more giddy than before. And it had nothing at all to do with this sexy secret they shared.

He looked over at Bruce, who had picked up his book again and was reading it with a hint of a smile on his lips, and his heart did a little backflip. Their hard-won vacation hadn’t even begun yet but he already couldn’t wait until they were back home. Because they were going to have **_a_ ** home. Singular. This was…it was huge. Not just a huge step for Bruce to move on from his past, but for Tony, too. He’d only been half-joking when he said he was hard to live with. He knew he was, and he had a string of exes to prove it. But he was going to try his damnedest to make sure Bruce would never regret his decision.

He couldn’t focus on reading right now, so he pulled out his phone to play one of his shitty puzzle games to pass the next—(he checked his watch)—three hours and twenty-five minutes until their vacation officially began.

“Hey,” Bruce said suddenly, putting down his book and leaning close to Tony so no one would overhear. “You asked me earlier if I’d ever gotten a blow job on an airplane before. Well, I still haven’t.” He looked at Tony expectantly, lips twitching with a suppressed smile.

“Oh, that’s right!” Tony replied, recalling what he’d said. He reached over to squeeze Bruce’s inner thigh. “Well, now we have something to do on the trip back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, you can unlock an airplane bathroom door from the outside by lifting up the little metal label on the door that says "lavatory" ;)


End file.
